The Moments in the Memories
by JDB3100
Summary: A cherished wife, mother, friend and colleague lingers in a coma. As the people who love her remember pivotal moments, they have to wonder. Will she ever wake up? Angsty, but with a happy ending! B&B all the way.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my first attempt at Bones fanfic and my first attempt at _any_ fanfic in years (a few bad experiences soured me on the idea for a while). Please let me know what you think.**

I don't own Bones. If I did Hannah would never have existed.

There's some violence in this story, though I tried not to make it too graphic.

**The Moments in the Memories**

**Chapter 1**

Seeley Booth absently stroked the soft skin of his wife's ring-less hand as he watched the birds peck at the feeder hanging on the large maple just outside the window. Sunset was coming earlier each day and most of the branches were already bare. The birds were taking advantage of a hearty meal before beginning the next leg of their journey south and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor provided a sort of musical accompaniment to the bird's flutters and jumps. He watched through the trees as an ambulance approached the hospital, emergency lights flashing. Though the thick pane of glass muted the sound of the sirens, he heard them in his memory as his mind drifted back…

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><p>Booth's government-standard SUV was too large to park on the narrow streets but he managed to find a place just one block west of the address displayed on his phone. As they walked along the cracked and weed-infested sidewalks, Booth kept Bones close, his sniper senses working overtime in the crime-riddled neighborhood. His FBI issued firearm was a reassuring weight in its holster.<p>

"There it is." Brennan pointed to the end of the street. From the outside, the single story house looked old and was clearly in need of numerous repairs. A crude wooden ramp had been built over the porch steps and the boards creaked as the partners approached the door. Booth gave three solid knocks and Brennan watched a few paint chips detach themselves to land softly at their feet.

The door cracked open. "Yes, can I help you?" Bloodshot eyes peered out behind a chain at waist-level.

"Rebecca James?" Booth flashed a smile along with his badge, "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI. This is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian."

The door closed and they heard the sound of the chain being unlatched. The door opened fully to reveal a middle aged woman, her petite frame dwarfed by the size of her manual wheelchair.

"Yes, I'm Rebecca James. Is this about Geoffrey Whitmore?" Her voice was slightly unsteady.

"Yes ma'am. You've heard about his murder?"

"Yes," she said cautiously. "It was in the papers." Her eyes strayed from him to his partner and back again.

Booth nodded. "Well, we have some questions for you regarding your relationship with the deceased."

Mrs. James recoiled as if slapped. "Well, if all your questions are like that one, I don't see that I have anything to talk about with you. We didn't have a relationship. That young man got drunk and ran into me with his Porsche." She gripped the arm of her wheelchair. "Stuck me in this contraption for the rest of my life."

Brennan jumped in with an attempt to sooth the distraught woman. "We understand your reluctance to speak with us ma'am. You've clearly endured a traumatic event. Anthropologically, young males in a society such as ours often resist the responsibilities that accompany adulthood by frequently overindulging in the consumption of alcohol, among other things. Unfortunately it is often the weaker members of society that pay the price."

Mrs. James looked up at her in offended confusion. "Are you saying that it's normal for spoiled rich boys to run down older women?"

"No, of course not," Brennan attempted to defend her statements. "What I'm saying is-"

"Mrs. James," Booth cut off his partner unapologetically. "We just have a few questions we need you to answer."

Mrs. James took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "Yes, of course. He ran me down. That's a type of relationship I suppose. It'd be best if you come in. It's not the safest neighborhood, especially once the sun goes down." She motioned for them to follow her as she wheeled down a short hallway into a small living room.

With an open hand she gestured for them to take a seat on the shabby sofa. "What would you like to know?"

"Well ma'am," Booth began as he and Brennan settled themselves on the lumpy cushions. "When was the last time you had contact with Mr. Whitmore?"

"Five months ago," she answered definitively. "I had finally been moved out of ICU and was looking forward to being able to go home. He came to visit me. Tried to apologize."

"I assume his apology was not accepted." Brennan leaned forward to better gauge her response.

"Of course not! I spoke to our lawyer about the incident and she was sure it was a ploy to avoid extensive jail time. Something about showing remorse for the judge." She humphed in disgust. "There was no way I was letting him off the hook, no matter how much he said he was sorry. Not after everything that had happened."

"Everything that had happened?" Booth questioned in a soft voice.

Mrs. James shifted in her wheelchair. "My husband had been laid off and our house was already in foreclosure. Bob and I thought he'd find another job before the COBRA insurance ran out, but with this economy…"

"You seem quite angry." Brennan stated simply. Booth placed a quelling hand on her leg but not before Mrs. James's eyes darted to Brennan's in shock.

"Look what happened to me! Hospital bills galore, and none of it our fault. We're working on a civil suit, but that takes time. All of our savings are gone and we're drowning in debt." She looked around the small room in disgust. "And now we're stuck in this god-forsaken rat-trap of a house with practically nothing. I used to have a beautiful house. And nice things." She gestured to her legs. "Now I can't even take a walk."

"Were you angry enough to want him dead?" Brennan's tone was matter-of-fact, and Booth squeezed her knee in an attempt to get her to let him do the questioning.

Mrs. James sputtered at the seemingly insensitive woman across from her. "What's wrong with you, lady? Of course I was angry. That doesn't mean I killed him!"

Booth made eye contact and nodded his head in an attempt to connect with the middle-aged woman. "I'm very sorry, but in the course of an investigation we need to ask some very hard questions. I know this is not easy for you."

His sympathetic tone gained an immediate response. Mrs. James took a deep breath to gather her composure. "No. Not much of anything is easy anymore. But the honest truth is that it does Bob and me no good to have that man dead. Dead men don't write checks. Our over-priced lawyer is working to try to get us something from his estate. But we don't have much hope."

Booth stood up to bring the interview to a close. "I understand how difficult this entire situation must be for you. Thank you for your time Mrs. James." He laid one of his business cards on the dented coffee table. "Please call if you have any information. We'll see ourselves out."

Booth took Brennan's hand and pulled her toward the door. The night closed around them as they exited the house and approached the SUV in silence. Booth pressed a button on his keyring and the vehicle beeped as its locks disengaged. Brennan stopped with her hand on the door handle and turned to face her husband.

"Are you upset with me?" Her tone was slightly plaintive.

Booth sighed, dropped the keys into his pocket and took both of her hands in his. "No, honey. I'm not upset. I just wish you had let me handle the questioning. You're a little rusty."

"I don't understand. While the human body does oxidize, I am not ostensibly rusted."

"You're out of practice," he explained patiently. "It's been over a year. You haven't been out in the field since before Ali was born. It's going to take some time to get back into the swing of things."

"The swing of things meaning the way we questioned suspects before our relationship was altered by the birth of our first child?" She wanted to be sure she understood his use of the idiom clearly.

Booth chuckled "Yes, exactly. It will take some time for our dynamic as parents to morph back into the dynamic of a super-duper crime-fighting duo."

Later he would question how he had let his guard slip. It had felt so good to be back in the field with her, despite the rocky interview. She was showing an uncharacteristic bit of vulnerability, and as usual, he found it absolutely adorable. He had no hint that something was wrong until he leaned in to kiss her and felt the cold tip of the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his neck.

"Keys. Now." The voice was low but direct.

Booth subtly shifted to put as much of his body as he could between the assailant and his wife. He fervently hoped she wasn't so rusty that she couldn't read the silent message in his eyes to let him handle the situation.

"You're making a mistake. I'm FBI." Only someone who knew him as well as Bones could hear the fear in his voice. "Walk away. Just walk away."

"Keys. Now." The gun pressed a little deeper.

"Okay. Listen. The keys are in the left pocket of my pants. Just take them." Booth could feel Bones tensing against him. He frantically pleaded with her with his eyes. Best to let the man have what he wanted and just let the LoJack in the SUV do its job.

The armed man took the keys and helped himself to the wallet in Booth's back pocket as well. Fortunately, the thief was so focused on Booth's pockets that he didn't notice the gun under Booth's jacket. Unfortunately, just as the man was pulling away, Brennan made her move and attempted to plant her fist in his solar plexus.

"_Bones, no_!" Booth tried to completely shield her body with his own while simultaneously twisting toward their assailant, gun in hand. But he wasn't fast enough.

Two shots blasted through the air. The first struck the side of his wife's head. The second tore its way through the thief's heart. Booth knew in a distant part of his brain that someone in the neighborhood must have called 911, but as the ambulance approached with its piercing sirens, Booth could only concentrate on cradling his wife's head in his lap, pressing on her wound with all his strength in an attempt to staunch the seemingly endless flow of blood.

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><p>Two long months had passed since that fateful night. That night when a drug-addicted petty thief got in over his head and tried to steal an SUV to pay off his dealer. That night when the same man panicked and shot his stolen gun for the very first time. That night when Booth killed yet another man, but was too late to save anyone.<p>

That night when Seeley Booth's whole world had crashed down upon him.

Booth turned from the window to look upon his comatose wife, her limp hand still held tenderly in his own. Two questions formed a never ending chorus in his head. Would she ever wake up? And could he go on if she didn't?


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you to all of my readers. I'd love to hear from more of you!**

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><p><strong>The Moments in the Memories<strong>

**Chapter 2**

Camille Saroyan strode through the automatic doors and headed straight for the elevator. Thanks to some well-placed connections at the hospital, she was aware of her route, and restricted doors were buzzed opened with just a flash of her Jeffersonian ID. The tap-tap of her heels echoed against the tiled floor, alerting Dr. Brennan's companion of her arrival.

Seeley Booth turned toward the door; his arms were folded across his middle. Cam involuntarily tightened her grip on the modest vase of flowers she had purchased. She brought the bouquet more fully in front of her, a sort of shield against the stark misery that permeated his entire being.

"Seeley," she greeted softly.

He didn't respond.

She proffered the flowers. "I thought they might brighten things up a bit." She used her head to indicate the dimly lit room.

His eyes flicked down to the flowers before returning to her face. Without a word, he turned back toward his unconscious wife.

Cam crossed to the window ledge where she set the vase down with a gentle clink. The sun's light was fading rapidly and heavy gray clouds were beginning to spit an icy rain. Taking deep breaths in an effort to fortify herself, she stood at the window for several moments before turning to try again.

"You look terrible, Seeley." Her chiding insult still failed to elicit a response, so she walked up behind him and placed a soft hand on his slumped shoulder. "Why don't you go home and get some rest."

He jerked away. "I'm not leaving." He finally spoke, his voice dark with steely determination.

"You've been practically living at this hospital for the last two months. You've let no one but Max visit. Do you know the strings I had to pull to get in here?" She struggled to rein in her frustration. "Go home, Seeley! Take a bath. Sleep in your own bed."

"I'm. Not. Leaving."

Cam moved to stand next to him. She looked down at the small frame barely discernible under the white blankets. Dr. Brennan had never been a large woman and the weeks in a coma had taken their toll.

Silence descended once more as the professional woman called on her skills as an administrator to calmly assess the situation and consider the most effective way to achieve her goal. She decided to issue a challenge. "Do you think your wife would want you to be acting like this?"

It took a few moments for Booth to respond. "My place is with Bones. She'd want me here."

His words were low, but Cam detected just the slightest wobble of doubt in them. She once again placed her hand on Booth's shoulder, but this time she forced him to turn and look at her. "Are you sure about that? When was the last time you even saw your kids? When was the last time you tucked Parker in and sang Ali to sleep? A nanny is no substitute for a parent, Booth!" She paused and looked straight into his eyes. "Ali's had her mother ripped away from her. You're making her go through this without her father too. Is that really acceptable to you?"

Cam let her question sink in and then gestured toward Brennan. "You know it wouldn't be acceptable to her. You know the woman you love wouldn't want you to be a husband at the expense of being a father. She'd beat the crap out of you for abandoning your kids for her."

Tears pooled in his eyes as Seeley Booth recognized the truth in his friend's words. He knew she was right. It was just that- "What if something happens and I'm not here? What if she wakes up alone and frightened?"

"She won't be alone, I promise you." She took his hands in hers, squeezed, and let them drop. "Your wife is loved by a great many people, Seeley. We're all going to take shifts. I'm the boss so I'm first."

Booth scrubbed a rough hand across his eyes and finally nodded in reluctant acceptance. He leaned down to his wife to place a tender kiss on the side of her head. Her hair was growing back from the shaving the emergency staff had performed, and it was just long enough to fall into her eyes. He smoothed it back. "I'll be back soon, Bones. I love you so much."

He straightened and Cam ushered him toward the door. "Go kiss that baby of yours, Seeley."

And then she was alone with the shell of the woman she called colleague and friend. A nurse entered the room silently and, after a nod toward the elegantly dressed visitor, went straight to the bed and worked the patient on to her left side. Cam knew the staff were doing their best, moving the unconscious woman's limbs regularly and turning her frequently to avoid bedsores. But despite their efforts, Dr. Brennan's body was pale and emaciated. How different it was from just a few short months ago, when a strong and robust body had birthed a precious new life…

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><p>"I have a baby girl!" Booth burst through the waiting room doors and everyone surged forward to offer their congratulations. Cam reached up to kiss him on the cheek and found herself being whirled in an exuberant circle.<p>

"Put me down, Seeley!" she ordered with a grin. He complied with a hearty laugh.

"6 lbs, 7 ounces. 19 inches long." Booth radiated excitement and joy. "10 fingers, 10 toes and as gorgeous as her mama!"

With the consent of the new parents, close friends and family were allowed to visit immediately, one person at a time. Cam waited patiently, and when it was her turn, Booth offered an irresistible grin along with his arm to escort her down the hall of the maternity ward. With a soft knock, he led her into a small room dominated by the bed that cradled mother and infant.

Light from the spring sun streamed through the windows. Cam could see a small bird feeding the newly hatched babies that were nestled in the branches of a maple. A small sink, fixtures shining brilliantly, stood in the corner of the room. Booth moved to it, washing his hands before stepping aside to encourage her to do the same. Cam dutifully soaped up and rinsed down before approaching the bedside.

"How are you feeling?" she gently asked the new mother.

Brennan looked exhausted but was beaming with an inner glow. "I'm quite tired, as labor and childbirth were a strenuous process. But I find I'm happier than I've ever been."

Brennan looked at Booth with love shining from her eyes and Booth gazed in adoration back at her. Cam, feeling like an intruder, smiled at the floor to allow the couple a private moment.

"Would you like to hold her, Camille?"

Cam looked at Brennan to check that it was okay and Brennan nodded her assent. Booth reached over to ease the small bundle away from his wife and settled the baby into Cam's arms.

"She's so tiny. Tiny and perfect." Cam's maternal instincts were asserting themselves and she began to rock the precious baby back and forth.

"Isn't she?" Booth agreed. "We've decided to name her Ali."

"Short for Allison?" Cam questioned.

"Nope. Just Ali."

"It was one of the few names upon which we agreed." Brennan explained.

The baby began to whimper and Booth quickly reclaimed her. "I think somebody's a little hungry." He gently bounced the baby back to her mother. Brennan competently took little Ali and began to unsnap the front of her gown.

"I'll see myself out. Congratulations again," Cam gracefully excused herself. The new parents were so absorbed by the suckling infant that they barely noticed her exit. She paused outside the hospital room door and sighed in vicarious happiness. That was one lucky kid; they were going to be amazing parents.

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><p>A sharp rap on the door brought Cam back into the present.<p>

"I'm sorry ma'am, but it's time for the patient's sponge bath." The nurse moved to the side of the bed. "There's a nice little room just down the hall where you can wait. It's got vending machines with soda and snacks. Or if you like, the cafeteria is still serving."

Cam thanked the older woman and inquired how long she'd be. If Seeley returned to find an empty room, he'd not only never speak to her again, but would never again willingly leave his wife's bedside.

"Oh, about twenty minutes I imagine. Temperance here is going to have her hair washed and a nice clean gown to rest in." The kindly nurse obviously felt some affection for her patient. "Please close the door behind you."

Cam nodded and exited the room. As she followed the posted signs to the cafeteria, her mind and heart ached for her friends. They were two halves of one extraordinary whole. What was going to happen if Temperance Brennan never woke up? How would Seeley ever go on without her?


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I have been accused of writing a sad story. I suppose that I must, for now, plead guilty to that charge; however, if you the jury could wait a few more chapters before delivering the final verdict, I think the defense may surprise you with some new evidence. You just have to be patient and submit as many reviews as possible. :-)**

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><p><strong>The Moments in the Memories<strong>

**Chapter 3**

Angela tip-toed into the room, taking care not to startle Booth. He slept awkwardly in a blue hospital chair, his legs propped up along the bed. One large hand was splayed across his chest; the other covered a frail hand peeking out from under the covers. It was obvious to Angela that he had lost weight, and the face that was normally tanned by field work was pale and wan. She gently shook him awake.

"Hey, Booth. Sorry I'm late," she whispered. "Michael had a small crisis that required his Mama's presence."

Booth's eyes fluttered open and he let out a huge yawn. " 's okay." He stood up and stretched, carefully arching his back. Several loud pops echoed off the walls. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to go home and sleep in a bed."

It had been several weeks since Cam had bullied Booth into letting his friends take shifts with his wife. Used to the routine by now, Booth didn't protest. He kissed his wife goodbye and stumbled to the door.

"Booth?" Angela called. He turned.

"Take a cab, okay? Ali doesn't need two parents in the hospital because you fell asleep at the wheel."

Booth nodded. "You'll call me if anything happens?" His fingers unconsciously fiddled with the ring on his left hand.

"I'll call- I promise. Now go get some sleep; I don't want to see you again in less than eight hours."

Angela watched him leave, and then dropped her heavy coat and purse into one of the chairs. She turned to her best friend. "Well, Sweetie. It's just me and you for this slumber party."

Angela picked up the small jar of Vaseline that perpetually sat on a dull gray side table. She gently smoothed a trace amount over Brennan's dry lips and cuticles. Taking several generous squirts of unscented lotion from the large bottle next to the Vaseline, she began to rub it firmly into Brennan's skin. She worked her way methodically over the patient's entire body, taking care to avoid jostling the various tubes that were helping to sustain her friend's life. As she massaged the last bit of lotion into Brennan's left hand, Angela chuckled to herself over the lack of wedding band.

"Sweetie, if you had known how much you were going to love being married to Seeley Booth, you never would have resisted." The artist's mind drifted back to that day in Brennan's office…

* * *

><p>The blinds swung wildly as Angela slammed the door behind her and stomped directly in front of Brennan's desk. "What is wrong with you?"<p>

Brennan met the fury in Angela's eyes with determined calm. "I don't know what you mean."

"That's bull and you know it." The artist's normally laid-back posture was tense and aggressive. "You've been impossible to work with for the last week. I'm surprised Wendell's head is still attached considering the way you went after it just now!"

"Angela, please calm down. Part of my job as a supervisor is to ensure the highest quality of work from my assistant. Dr. Bray's head was never in any danger. However, the simple fact that he missed some very important micro-fractures needed to be dealt with. His mistake clearly warranted a verbal reprimand."

"Micro-fractures that you initially missed as well!" Angela sputtered in indignation. "And that wasn't just a verbal reprimand! I can tell when something is going on, Sweetie. Whatever it is, you're taking it out on everyone in the lab. Spill."

"Angela, nothing is going on," Brennan continued to defend herself, but with less authority.

"Omigod." Angela walked around the desk and grabbed Brennan's hand in panic. "It's the baby isn't it? Something's wrong with the baby?"

Brennan pulled her hand away, stood, and crossed to the couch that sat just left of the door. She sank into the plush cushions and crossed her arms over her burgeoning belly. "Nothing is wrong with my fetus. I'm 22 weeks and Dr. Nambala confirmed yesterday that my pregnancy is progressing normally. Everything is all right."

Angela moved to sit next to her friend on the couch, her body turned toward the intelligent, but exasperatingly obtuse woman. "I'm glad everything is all right with your baby, Sweetie, but everything is not all right with you."

Angela met Brennan's glare with unrelenting determination.

After a few long seconds, Brennan's shoulders slumped. "Booth wants to get married," she muttered.

Angela smiled gently and once again reached for her friend's hand. "That's not exactly unexpected Sweetie. Booth's the marrying kind."

"When we discussed attempting a romantic relationship, he said he understood my position on marriage. He accepted that I do not intend on ever marrying."

"Brennan," Angela tried to explain. "He did understand. But maybe he thought that once you felt secure in his love for you…once you knew he would never leave…He was probably hoping you'd change your mind."

"Well, I haven't! Marriage is a patriarchal institution primarily used through-out human history as a way to transfer ownership of a female from her father to a husband. It was and is used to provide legitimacy to bloodlines for purposes of inheritance." Brennan threw up her free hand in frustration. "Yet Booth persists in seeing marriage as _romantic. _It's incomprehensible!"

Angela tried to respond in as calming a voice as she could. "Booth doesn't want to own you, Sweetie. And I don't think he's concerned about passing along his oh-so-huge stash of wealth. He just sees marriage as the ultimate commitment."

"I don't need to get married to demonstrate my commitment. I'm committed! Fully. To Booth and our child. I've already demonstrated that by acceding to his request to refrain from fieldwork for the duration of my pregnancy!" Brennan huffed in indignation. "The only reason Booth sees marriage as the pinnacle of commitment is because he has been so heavily influenced by his mythical religion."

Angela took a few deep breaths and squeezed Brennan's hand. The good doctor rarely attacked Booth's Catholicism anymore, and the fact that she was doing so now indicated to Angela how vulnerable she was feeling. _How to get her to understand?_

"Sweetie, you said once that you wouldn't get married unless you had a good reason to."

Brennan stayed silent.

"Maybe there's another reason Booth wants to get married. One you're refusing to see."

Brennan glared at her and opened her mouth to refute that possibility. Angela cut her off before she could.

"I know that you're renowned for your attention to detail, Sweetie. But sometimes you get so focused on the details that you miss the big stuff." Angela reached out and gently touched her friend's rounded middle. "You're pregnant, Brennan."

"I'm very much aware of that, Angela. I assure you, Booth did not mention marriage at the moment he helped me to achieve this state."

"No; I'm sure he didn't." Angela rolled her eyes. "But you're also aware that Booth already has a child with a woman who refused to marry him."

"Of course. Though I don't see the relevance."

"Come on, Brennan! You remember what it was like when Parker was little. When we first knew Booth."

Brennan shifted on the couch, but refused to yield.

"Do you remember the times he came in, acting like a complete jerk because Rebecca had once again threatened to take Parker away? Until they worked things out, Booth was constantly terrified of losing his son!"

Brennan's defenses thawed slightly as she recalled her lover's pain. "I would never do that, Ange. Booth is a wonderful father. I would never deprive my child of his presence."

"I know that, Sweetie, but you're not the only one in the relationship with insecurities. Booth is scared that not being married will limit his legal rights if something goes wrong. It's natural that he wants to take precautions. He trusts you, but he's been burned in the past."

For once, Brennan didn't question the idiom. She looked up at Angela with petulant eyes. "Booth's fears are irrational. I don't want to get married."

"Enough, Brennan!" Angela spit out forcefully. "Booth has let you take the lead on virtually every aspect of your relationship. _You_ decided when you two got together, when you bought the house, when you got pregnant. Booth wanted to wait, but you convinced him not to!" Angela paused only long enough to take a deep breath. "You love Booth. You intend to be with him for the rest of your life. You're having the baby _you_ wanted. Getting married costs you nothing. _Nothing!_"

"Angela, I-"

"Let him have this one, Sweetie." Angela interrupted her best friend without remorse. "Trust me. You love him and he wants to get married. That's a good enough reason."

Angela stalked out of the office and back into the lab, leaving her best friend ruminating on the couch.

Two weeks later, Angela and Hodgins had played host to a small but unorthodox wedding. Rebecca and Parker sat next to Jared and his wife. Max, Russ and his family were seated just in front of them. The core team members and their families were the only others invited, and Cam helped Michelle keep an eye on little Michael Hodgins.

The boy's mother and father stood beside the bride and groom before a justice of the peace. Booth recited traditional vows while wearing a dapper tuxedo and he donned a simple gold band at the appointed time. Brennan wore a soft green maternity dress and promised only to love Booth until she died. She accepted no ring and would definitely _not_ be changing her name.

After all the guests had gone and Michael had been put to bed, Booth pulled Angela aside. Enfolding her into a bear hug, he kissed her cheek and whispered two words softly into her ear.

"Thank you."

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><p>At nine o'clock the next morning, a tolerably rested FBI special agent returned to his wife's room to discover her best friend reading aloud from a worn paperback.<p>

"Hey, Ange. Anything to report?"

"Not a thing, handsome man." Angela tucked the slim novel into her purse. She winked at him as she gathered her things. "What happens in a slumber party stays in the slumber party."

He reached down to kiss her softly on the cheek. "Thanks, Ange."

"I'll stop by tomorrow evening after work." She kissed her best friend lightly on the forehead and headed for the door. "Make sure to eat something, okay?"

When Booth didn't acknowledge her, she turned back around. He was already seated beside the bed, gently whispering to his wife; his attention was focused on her to the exclusion of all else.

Angela let the tears escape as the pain in her heart took over her whole body. Those two loved each other with everything that was in them. Just like her and Jack. She couldn't imagine how devastated she'd be if it were her husband in that bed instead of Brennan. She couldn't contemplate how unbearable it would be to watch the man she loved slowly fade away.

Her thoughts returned to her friends and she ached with sympathy. What was going to happen if Brennan never woke up? Would the sexy FBI guy find the strength to go on without her?

Those questions and more were still running through Angela's head twenty minutes later as she crawled into her bed to finally get some sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Moments in the Memories**

**Chapter 4**

"Hey, Dad." Parker sauntered into the hospital room.

"Hey, Buddy." His dad walked over to him and briefly wrapped an arm around the young teenager.

"Rose said Ali and me are allowed to visit now." Parker carefully propped his decaled skateboard against a wall.

Booth took the portable car-seat that held a sleeping Ali from the nanny. "The doctors said it was okay as long as you're on your best behavior. No skateboarding up and down the halls if you get bored, okay Parker?" The kid had taken to carrying the thing everywhere he went.

"I'm not that dumb, Dad. Best behavior, I promise."

Booth turned back to the nanny. "Thanks for bringing them by, Rose."

"No problem, Mr. Booth. I'll be back in an hour." Rose set down the stuffed-to-capacity diaper bag in the corner and then left.

The thirteen year old boy took off his coat and plopped down into one of the ugly blue chairs beside the bed. "Is Bones any better?" She really didn't look so good. She was super skinny and her skin looked kind of gray. Coma patients in a hospital sure didn't look like the coma patients on TV.

Booth lifted Ali out of the car-seat. "She's about the same, Buddy." He settled gently into the chair next to his son, cradling the little girl against his chest. The baby stirred, but then snuggled in to continue her nap.

"What's that thing in her neck?"

"It's called a tracheostomy tube, Parker. It's connected to the ventilator." Booth pointed to the relevant machine. "It helps Bones to breathe."

"Oh." Parker nodded. "What about the thing on her stomach?"

"It's a feeding tube. It goes through her belly directly into her stomach. The doctors have to give her a special formula since she can't really eat." Booth explained as simply and honestly as he could.

"Does it hurt?" It looked like it would hurt.

"Well, she can't really feel it, Parker."

"Oh." Parker silently worked something out in his head. "Well, if they can't feel it, maybe we should give Ali a feeding tube…so she doesn't scream whenever Rose tries to feed her."

Being careful not to disturb the baby, Booth reached over and mussed his son's hair affectionately. He smiled as the teenager frenetically smoothed it back into place. "I'm pretty sure that Ali would feel it, Buddy, since she's not in a coma. And I don't think she'd appreciate a feeding tube over the bottle."

Booth looked toward the figure in the bed and sighed. "It's just that Ali was never supposed to be on formula and she really hates it."

"No kidding. When she gets babyfood from the jars she's fine. But when she sees a bottle, she goes _crazy_!"

"I'm sorry, Bud. Does it bother you too much when she screams?" Booth wanted to make sure his kids got along well together, and not being the center of attention anymore was a big change for Parker.

"Nah. It's cool. Most of the time, she's totally awesome. She always laughs when I make funny faces at her, and she lets me tickle her all the time. She even likes to play with the wheels on my skateboard." Parker smiled and reached out a finger to gently touch Ali's chubby cheek. "She's my little sister, ya know?"

Booth blinked back the sudden moisture in his eyes and smiled back. "Yeah, Parker. I know." He rubbed a broad hand over the baby's back in rhythmic circles.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Parker took the opportunity to visually study the various equipment and displays in the room before his gaze settled back on his father and baby sister.

"It's not like I expected."

His dad looked at him in confusion. "The hospital?"

"No. Not the hospital." Parker tilted his head toward Ali. "Being a big brother."

Booth shifted in his chair to more fully face his son. "What did you expect?"

"I dunno. When you and Bones told me she was pregnant, I had all these ideas about how awful it would be…"

* * *

><p>"Am I in trouble?"<p>

When his dad sat the soon-to-be twelve year old down in the living room to talk, that usually meant he was about to be punished.

"No, Parker. You're not in trouble." Dr. Bones sat down next to his dad on the couch, and his dad took her hand. They were _always_ holding hands.

"We've got some big news for you, Buddy."

"Are we getting a dog? Please say we're getting a dog." Parker had asked for a dog every day since they moved into the house. Because really, what was the point of such a huge yard if he couldn't play in it with a dog?

"No Parker, we're not getting a dog," Dr. Bones announced matter-of-factly. "I'm pregnant."

"Way to ease into it there, Bones," his dad hissed under his breath.

Parker leaned forward to peer at her stomach. "You don't look pregnant. Jimmy Holt's mom is pregnant and her belly is way out to _here_." Parker held his hands out in front of him as far as he could.

"Jimmy Holt's mother would likely be carrying several fetuses if that were an accurate representation of the distance to which her uterus had distended. It is more likely that she is carrying only a single fetus, but is quite advanced in her pregnancy. Your unfamiliarity with women who are in the last stages of their pregnancies likely led you to describe her in such a hyperbolic manner."

"Thanks for clearing that up for us, Bones." Booth rolled his eyes.

Parker laughed. He loved how Dr. Bones talked to him the same way she talked to everyone else. She never treated him like he was a stupid little kid the way some adults did.

"Bones is only twelve weeks along, Buddy. She's not showing quite yet." His dad patted his free hand against his girlfriend's knee. "But don't worry. She'll be out to there in no time!" He winked and Dr. Bones gave him one of her _looks_.

Parker probably would have giggled had he been paying attention, but he had moved on to more important things. "Am I going to have to babysit on my weekends with you? Jimmy said his mom told him that he might have to babysit when the baby gets older. Even though Jimmy's a _boy_."

"No Parker, you aren't going to have to babysit," Booth assured him. "Bones and I spoke to your mom about sharing Rose, and Rose agreed that she could look after both you and the new baby. It won't be so hard since by the time he or she is born, you'll be old enough to spend a little more time on your own."

"Cool." More freedom sounded like an _excellent_ idea. Unless… "I'm not going to have to share my room or anything, am I?

"There is an adequate number of rooms in this house for each individual to have his or her own. Sharing your room will not be necessary."

"Good. I don't want to share." Parker's room was his domain. He had a loft bed, a computer, and his own TV. Dr. Bones had even given him the latest gaming system as a moving-in present. There was _no way_ he was taking down his Philadelphia Flyers and Shaun White posters for ones with Winnie-the-Pooh all over them.

"Uh, Bones?" His father addressed his girlfriend, but kept looking at his son. "Could you give us a minute alone?"

"Sure, Booth." She smiled one last time at Parker before exiting the room.

_Uh-oh. _"Did I say something wrong?"

Booth got up from the couch to sit on the coffee table, directly in front of his son. "No, Parker. You didn't say anything wrong. You're allowed to have concerns about how a new baby in the family might change your life. And if you ever have any problems after the baby is born, you can come to your mom or me and Bones, and we'll talk about it."

His dad moved even closer and stared straight into his eyes. "I just want to make sure you understand something. This is really important, okay?"

Parker shifted in his chair, but didn't break eye contact. "What is it, Dad?"

"This new baby isn't going to belong just to me and Bones. He or she is going to be _your_ little brother or sister. That means it's going to be your job to help protect him or her."

"What do you mean? Protect him from what?"

"Say you see something next to the crib that you think might be dangerous. It'll be your responsibility to make sure the baby can't reach it or to tell me so that I can move it. Or maybe you drop one of your allergy pills on the floor? You'll need to make sure it gets picked up so the baby doesn't get it." Booth paused to take a breath. "And when the baby grows up, there might be things like bullies at school, or other situations where I won't be there, but you will. It'll be your job to look out for him; to keep him safe when Bones or I can't."

Booth leaned forward, his face very close to his son's. "Do you understand, Parker?"

_No. _He didn't. He hadn't grown up with an abusive drunk for a father. He had never been abandoned or left to fend for himself in a sometimes cruel world.

But Parker dutifully nodded his head and told his dad that he did understand. Because he knew that's what his father expected of him, and he didn't want to disappoint the man he so looked up to.

"Can I go play on my computer now?"

Booth sat back with a sigh. "Sure, Parker." The last few minutes had been intense. Hopefully he had gotten his point across.

Parker leapt up and ran for the stairs.

"Thirty minutes, okay?" Booth called futilely after him. "Then it'll be time for dinner!"

* * *

><p>Parker's stomach growled loudly, and the sound bounced off the walls of the almost silent hospital room.<p>

He watched his dad crouch down to strap Ali back into her car-seat. "Rose should be back any minute, Parker. Why don't you get your things together?"

"Thank goodness. I'm starving."

Booth stood up and pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet. He handed it to Parker. "Why don't you ask Rose to order pizza from that place you like, okay?"

"Cool." Parker pocketed the money and slipped into his coat.

Rose appeared at the door. "Ready to go?"

"Just about." Booth carefully pressed his fingertips to Brennan's lips and then gently pressed them to Ali's. "Mama loves you baby girl," he whispered.

Parker squeezed Bones' hand in farewell and retrieved his skateboard from its place against the wall. He hugged his dad goodbye and stood patiently by the door. Rose picked up the diaper bag and collected the baby from her father.

While their small group waited for the elevator Parker kept thinking the same things over and over again. He really liked Bones. And he knew how much his dad loved her. What if his step-mom never woke up? What would his dad do? What would Ali do without her mom? She was so little.

Parker felt something new well up inside of him. He didn't know what it was, but he suddenly felt compelled to do something he had never done before.

"I can carry Ali, Rose. If you could take my skateboard?"

The nanny was surprised, but agreed to the swap. Parker hefted the car-seat all the way to the car before carefully following Rose's instructions on how to lock it into its base.

And from that day forward, the young man carried his baby sister whenever they went out together.

The skateboard stayed at home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whew! Writing in a young teenager's voice was one of the hardest things I've done for this story. Please review and let me know how successful I was (or wasn't).<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**The Moments in the Memories**

**Chapter 5**

Max waltzed into the hospital room, determinedly upbeat. "Hey, Booth. I managed to smuggle in some sandwiches!" He pulled a nondescript and very wrinkled paper bag out from under his heavy winter coat. A blizzard raged through the air outside of the window; the evening sky was was an oppressive dark gray.

Booth didn't respond to Max's announcement. His attention remained focused on the woman in the bed. One of her hands was clenched between both of his, and he rested his head against them. His eyes were tightly closed, but his mouth rapidly formed silent words. He was clearly a man engaged in some very desperate prayers.

The bag slipped from Max's fingers and landed on the floor with a thud. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

Booth leaned back. He opened his eyes but didn't move them from his wife's still form. "The doctors- They, uh…pulled me aside today."

"Yeah? What for?" Max asked cautiously.

"It's been five months, Max. There's been no improvement." Booth's voice was ominously empty.

"_Yeah_?" Max clenched his teeth in anger. He could sense what was coming.

"Patients who are in this type of situation for this long…the doctors start encouraging next of kin to consider the possibility that they might have to make… decisions."

"I hope you told those bastards to go straight to hell!" he demanded. Max didn't care if Booth was her husband and thus her next of kin. No one, _no one_, was going to take his daughter away from him. As long as he had an ounce of breath left in his body, Max Keenan would fight for her.

"I told them I wouldn't even consider it, Max." Booth's voice was, if possible, even emptier than before. "It probably won't matter anyway."

"What do you mean? Why not?" Max labored to keep his voice steady.

"The mucus they've been clearing from her lungs…" Booth worked his jaw back and forth. "It's changed. They think she's developed aspiration pneumonia."

"Pneumonia? But Tempe's just lying there! How could she get pneumonia?"

"That's just it. She's just lying there. She's got one tube in her belly. Another in her neck. Both can let in all sorts of bacteria. She's so weak…" Booth's voice cracked, and he struggled to maintain control.

"Surely they can do something!" Max implored. Panic clawed at the edges of his being.

"Not much. They're giving her antibiotics through her IV, but there's no guarantee. Apparently pneumonia is extremely common with coma patients." Booth cleared his throat. He took a shaky breath and opened his mouth to continue, but no words came out. He tried to clear his throat again, but the façade finally crumbled. He doubled over in his chair as his body began to heave with gut-wrenching sobs. "They won't say it, but I know. I know if she has pneumonia," he choked out. "She's going to die."

"Oh, God." Max covered his mouth in horror. Hot tears flooded his eyes as he pulled the younger man up into his arms.

"I can't lose her! I just…can't…" Any remaining vestige of strength disappeared as Booth wept openly, clutching brokenly at his father-in-law.

It took a full twenty minutes for Booth to quiet down. Max knew he had to do something. Tempe wouldn't be able to come back if she didn't have Booth's strength to help her. He pulled back from the embrace and took the larger man's face between his hands. "I know my daughter. Tempe's a fighter! She's not going to die!"

"God, Max. You don't know that!" Booth's voice broke in agony.

"I know I'm right, dammit! Tempe would probably be okay with never seeing our ugly mugs again, but there's no way she leaves her daughter! No way!" Max's hand sliced through the air, emphasizing his forceful words.

"Do you remember, Booth?" Max spoke quickly and quietly, desperately trying to spark some bit of hope back into the man. "Do you remember how badly Tempe wanted to have that baby? Do you remember how determined she was, how excited she was as the prospect? C'mon, you remember…"

* * *

><p>"Thank you for joining me for lunch today."<p>

Max slid into the side of the booth opposite his daughter. "Of course, Tempe. Anytime. You know that." A waiter stopped to take their order. Max settled comfortably into the cracked vinyl cushioning, waiting patiently for her to initiate the conversation. He had to wait until their food arrived five minutes later.

"How did you and Mom decide to have Russ?" she finally asked.

"Uhh...How do you mean?"

"You were career criminals. Thieves." As usual, his daughter made no attempt to sugar-coat the facts.

"Yes, we were," Max acknowledged, wondering where she was going with this.

"It does not seem like the kind of lifestyle that would be conducive to raising children, yet you had Russ and then me."

"If you remember," Max pointed out, "that lifestyle ended up _not_ mixing very well with children."

"Of course I remember. But even after you had Russ, you continued to engage in dangerous criminal activity until I was a toddler."

"Haven't we been over all of this before? Do you need me to apologize again? I will if you need me too," he offered.

"No, Dad," she refused, shaking her head in frustration. Max could see the gears turning as she re-evaluated what line of questioning would get her the answers she was looking for. "I'm trying to ascertain if Russ and I were planned; and if we were, how did you determine the desired time for mom to become pregnant?"

"Ah." Max understood now. "You and Booth are thinking about having a baby."

"I want to. He wants to wait," she replied.

"I see." Max took a sip of water. "What are his objections?"

"Booth thinks we're not ready yet. He says we haven't lived together for a long enough period of time to establish our life together. He says we need to know who we are as a couple before we bring a baby into the picture."

"Mmm," Max murmured. _Smart man._ "But you don't agree?"

"Booth and I already know each other extremely well." She shifted in her seat. "Thus, I must consider the possibility that he has some other reason. Perhaps one he feels, but is unable to verbalize." She leaned forward. "The only rational objection I could think of was the danger inherent in our jobs. I decided to consult with you because your career was also very dangerous, yet you and mom decided to have not one, but two children. So…will you tell me how you arrived at that decision?"

"Of course." His inexperienced daughter was missing the point, but her reasoning made sense, in a convoluted kind of way.

Max tilted his head in recollection. "Well…the truth is that Russ was an accident. We'd just finished a job, had a bit too much wine…" He waved his hand out in front of him as he let his sentence trail off.

His daughter imitated the gesture with a puzzled look on her face.

"You know. We got drunk…_celebrated_…" Max wouldn't admit it if later questioned, but it was possible his face was was tinged pink with the tiniest, most absolutely minuscule of blushes. "…and nine months later your brother made his glorious entrance into this world."

"I understand. And was I an accident as well?" she asked simply.

"No. No, you were planned." Max smiled into his daughter's eyes. "Kyle…well, Russ…was getting older and he kept asking us for a little brother or sister. We didn't want him to grow up a lonely only child, you know? So one night, your mom and me, we said 'what the heck; let's have another.' And we did." Max pointed across the table at her. "You."

"But was that the best decision? It must have been very difficult to continue robbing banks with a small child so dependent on you. Wouldn't it have been better to keep Russ a 'lonely only child' until a period of time occurred during which you could have another child in complete safety?" she inquired calmly.

Max couldn't help rolling his eyes. Only his daughter would question her own birth as illogical. "No. It wouldn't have been better if you had never been born, Tempe. Your mother and I never regretted that children interfered with our careers. Our only regret was that our careers ended up interfering with our children."

He could practically detect the neurons firing in her brain as his daughter worked out his response in her head. Predictably, she either didn't realize or chose to ignore the deeper meaning of his words and only responded to the surface of them.

"So, it was okay to have a baby, even though it was not the safest time? You did not regret it?"

"We absolutely did not," he replied. "No matter how safe one's job may or may not be, there's never a perfect time to have a baby, honey. Forget how dangerous your jobs are. Booth wants to wait." He watched her closely. "But you don't want to."

Her brow furrowed. She waited several seconds before responding. "Are you implying that I should ignore Booth's reservations and attempt to get pregnant without his consent?" she asked in confusion.

"Whoa, honey!" Max put both hands up in the air. "No! I am absolutely not saying that!" It was a good thing his little girl's primary job was to read bones, because she definitely still struggled to read people. "What I'm saying, is that you've only told me why Booth wants to wait. You haven't told me why you want to have a baby _now_."

Her brow cleared. "Oh. Well, there are several reasons," she began. "The high level of my income means that Booth and I are in a very strong financial position. Our jobs are secure, and the house is large enough to accommodate a family. I believe I would make an excellent parent and of course, Booth has already demonstrated on numerous occasions with Parker that he already is one. I am now convinced that it would indeed be better to raise a child with a combination of our parenting skills, rather than just the combination of our genetic material," she finished, clearly pleased with her reasoning.

Max decided it was better not to try to figure that one out. He reached across the table and took her hand. "Honey, that doesn't exactly tell me why you can't wait until Booth thinks you're ready," he said gently.

She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. "Loving Booth has made me realize how much capacity I have for the type of feelings I never imagined I would be able to experience. It's that…" His daughter's voice trailed off as she turned to stare distantly out of the diner's window. "…I feel like I finally have an open heart." She turned back and Max was startled to see the depth of longing on her face. "I don't want to waste any time. I want to use it. I need to," she whispered urgently.

Max didn't exactly understand her words, but he knew instinctively that there was some great meaning behind them. This was truly important to her. "Okay, honey," he replied. "What you need to do is throw out any logical arguments you've been making to Booth. Tell him what you just told me. Make him understand how you _feel_. Make him understand how much you want it. How much it _means_ to you. Booth's different from you, Tempe. He responds less to reason and more to emotion!" Max threw his napkin down on the table in the coup de grâce. "Tell him that you can't wait to fall in love with his baby. Ten bucks says he'll have you knocked up within a month."

"Knocked up is slang for pregnant, correct?"

Max shook his head in rueful exasperation. "Yes, honey. Knocked up means pregnant."

After a few moments of silent contemplation, his daughter began to emit waves of passionate determination. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to insist upon an immediate conception!" she declared. "Booth and I have been living together for long enough, and we've been romantically involved for a full year. I want to have a baby! I want to have Booth's baby. I'm going to tell him. Right now!" She gifted Max a brilliant smile before standing up and marching toward the door of the diner.

"You go girl! And don't you worry about the bill," he called. Max pulled out his wallet with a smile. "After all, what are fathers for?"

* * *

><p>Max pulled the door closed behind him as he exited his daughter's hospital room and trudged heavily toward the elevator. He was completely drained. Every last drop of hope he had left had been forcefully impressed into Booth in an attempt to shore up his son-in-law's breaking spirit.<p>

And it had worked. Booth had easily recalled the day that his partner had pushed into his office and wildly explained how much she wanted his child, how fiercely she would protect it and how deeply she would love it. Booth had been unable to resist the fire in her eyes and the determination in her body. He had given in, of course. Because Bones was stronger than he was. She was so strong.

When Ali had been born a mere ten months later, his wife had taken their darling girl deep into her open heart. There was no way that his Bones was _ever_ going to let that baby go. So Booth had rediscovered a few slivers of hope.

But Max had none left. He was older than Booth, and in some ways infinitely more experienced.

Max Keenan knew that no matter how much a man loved his wife, and no matter how much she loved her children, love was not going to keep a woman from dying. Not when a brutal hit-man was determined to murder her; not when she withered away in a coma.

As he rode the elevator to the ground floor, Max tried to recall times when his baby had succeeded against the odds by being willful or stubborn or just plain pain-in-the-ass. There were plenty of memories to choose from, but they did him no good. His spirit was just too depleted. He knew in his heart that he was going to outlive his only daughter. Nothing was going to save what was left of Tempe from pneumonia. She was never going to wake up. She was going to die. And her husband wasn't the only one that was going to struggle to go on without her.

Max walked through the automatic doors and into the freezing night. He looked up into the pitch-black sky. _Ruthie, I know you want her. But you can't take her. I'm begging you. Please. Please, don't take our daughter away. _

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading. Reviews do encourage me to update faster… <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I'll be updating more often now as I'm nearly done writing this story (only editing left to do). I'm hoping this chapter inspires laughter instead of tears...**

* * *

><p><strong>The Moments in the Memories<strong>

**Chapter 6**

Jack Hodgins stumbled up the stairs juggling one canvas bag filled with scholarly journals, another containing framed pictures wrapped in newspapers, and a box filled to the brim with unbelievably heavy global artifacts. It was just his luck that the elevator would be down on the night Angela sent him to decorate Dr. B's room. His wife had been reading articles about how to help coma patients, and she had convinced the doctors to let her spruce up her best friend's room with Brennan's personal paraphernalia.

Seeing as how Ange had been throwing up in the mornings and taking naps all hours of the day, there was no way Jack Hodgins was going to let his wife lug boxes around. So Angela planned and packed the necessary items from the Booth/Brennan household, while Jack did the heavy lifting and decorating.

"Yo, G-man! A little help maybe?"

Booth jerked in surprise. "You're lucky I'm not packing heat, Bug-man. You'd be a goner," he declared. Booth crossed to the door and relieved Jack of the forty-pound box, setting it down in a corner. "Is this the stuff Angela was getting together? Bones's knick-knacks and stuff?"

"Angie says the more, the better!" Hodgins carefully set his cargo on the floor and pulled his friend into a manly hug. "You seem a little better," he commented with a smile.

"Yeah," Booth acknowledged. "I'm trying to stay positive, you know?"

"I'm glad to hear it, man. I take it this mean there's been no more signs of pneumonia?"

Booth shook his head. "No, thank God. The antibiotics seem to be doing their job."

"Good. Dr. B deserves to catch a break." Hodgins clapped his friend on the back. "Speaking of breaks…"

"Yeah, I'm ready to go." Booth pulled on his jacket and pocketed his keys. "I'll be back around 6:30."

"Sounds good, man." Jack watched Booth kiss his wife, and then waved him out the door. "I'll see you in the morning."

Hodgins turned toward the figure in the bed. "Okay, Dr. B. Time to decorate!" He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Where to start?" He began to unpack the box, regularly consulting his unconscious friend as to where she thought this ceremonial mask or that fertility rain stick should go. He methodically filled the room, keeping in mind Angela's strict instructions.

When the box had been emptied, Jack moved on to the canvas bags. The Anthropological Journals were easy. They'd go on the side table so that visitors could read aloud from them whenever they were so inclined. The photographs were a different matter. Per Angela's directive, they were to be placed close to the bed; however, they could not be so close that they could become potential hazards.

Jack swept a critical eye around the room. He pinpointed a few acceptable spots and began to free the frames from their protective newspapers. Two pictures of Ali, one with her brother, the other with her mom. One of Parker and Booth. A shot of the whole gang from a Jeffersonian party a few years back.

The very last picture he unwrapped was a small photo set in a wooden frame. In it Booth was clad in a pair of jeans, his sweaty chest glistening in the fading light of sunset. One hand held a beer; the other was wrapped around Dr. Brennan, holding her against his side. She was in shorts and a tank-top, her hair protected by a bandanna. Her bare arms were wrapped possessively around Booth's naked torso, and both of them wore happy expressions tinged with exhaustion. In the background stood their new house, its white paint reflecting the colors in the clouds.

Jack remembered the picture well. He was the one who had taken it. God, that had been a fun day. Exhausting, but fun. They had all been so happy…

* * *

><p>"Errrrrr…Ugh!"<p>

Hodgins' multiple tattoos rippled as he and Booth hefted the solid oak bookcase up the stairs and into the room declared by Dr. Brennan to be the library. With a few more testosterone-filled grunts and groans, they wrestled the enormous piece of furniture into its desired location.

"One down, three to go," Booth panted.

"Man, how many bookcases does a person need?"

"A normal person?" Booth quirked an eyebrow sardonically. "Or Bones?"

"Right. Forget I asked." Hodgins followed Booth back down the stairs, through the expansive house, and out into the even more expansive front yard. "Man, this place is huge!" he exclaimed.

"This coming from a man who lives on an _estate_," Booth tossed back at him.

"Yeah, yeah," Hodgins acknowledged. Deftly directing the conversation away from his own financial worth, he continued, "No, really. Why such a large house? Is there something Angie and I need to know? Will these halls soon be host to the pitter-patter of little feet?"

Booth looked over to where Brennan and Angela were unloading boxes from the first of three trucks. "No, not yet," he replied, watching his girlfriend. He smiled distantly. "But someday…when the time is right," he confided, his voice wistful and warm.

"Man, you have got it _bad_." Jack chuckled in approval.

Booth's smile widened into a grin. Without another word, he motioned toward the second truck and moved with Hodgins to grapple with another bookcase.

When the fourth bookcase had been placed, the two sweaty men paused in mutual accord. "Maybe if we hide up here they won't be able to find us," Hodgins whispered.

"Now, now boys. Who'd want to hide from me?" Angela strode through the library doors, a superior smile making her beautiful face even more attractive.

"We're exhausted Ange," her husband pleaded. "We need a break."

"Fifteen minutes," she announced. "Brennan is making lemonade and will bring it down to the basement as soon as it's ready."

Booth sighed in relief and led the married couple into the hallway. "Wait until you see the TV I installed this morning," he said to the only other member of the group likely to appreciate such things. "You'll be green with envy."

"Oh, really?" Hodgins maintained an air of nonchalance, but his insides hummed with masculine curiosity.

"Oh, yeah," Booth drawled in reply. He was bragging and he knew it.

The three friends clunked down two flights of stairs. When his foot hit the cool tile of the basement floor, Hodgins' mouth dropped open. "Now _that_ is a TV." He reverently expressed his approval of the Panasonic 65-incher that was mounted on an otherwise empty wall. An invisible force pulled him closer.

"No, Jack." Angela's voice left no room for negotiation. Of course, that wasn't going to stop her husband from trying. And lucky for him, the manufacturer's box, which proclaimed the television's specs, was lying abandoned on the floor.

"But it's energy efficient," he protested.

"No."

"With excellent picture quality…"

"No."

"…in 3-D." The verbal drool poured from his lips.

"We do NOT need another TV, Jack. I don't care how much money we have." Angela stood tall, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

Booth walked up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder in sympathy. "Sorry, Buddy. I think the lady's winning this one."

Hodgins narrowed his eyes in semi-mock paranoia. "How'd you even afford this, Mr. Works-for-a-government-salary?"

"What can I say, man?" Booth shrugged good-naturedly. "My girlfriend is loaded." He smiled to rub it in. "And she loves me."

"Hey, Dr.B?" Hodgins called across to the stairs. "You got this monstrosity for Booth?" If he couldn't have one, he certainly wasn't going to pretend to like it anymore.

Brennan joined the group, tray of lemonade in hand. They all took a glass and gulped the blessedly cool liquid. "Yes," she answered. "I bought it as a moving-in gift. Booth more than adequately fulfilled his part of the social contract the afternoon it was delivered. I could barely walk the next day," she confided, completely straight-faced.

Hodgins choked on his drink. Angela cracked up as Booth's face flushed bright red.

"Geez, Bones. Haven't you ever heard of _too much information_?" he hissed.

"Angela has taught me that particular turn of phrase," she admitted. "However, I thought you would appreciate the reference to your sexual prowess." Booth glared as the two hyenas burst into fresh gales of laughter.

When the room had finally quieted, Brennan continued. "I don't understand, however, why you referred to the television as a monstrosity, Dr. Hodgins. The salesperson assured me this was the best on the market. All of the research I performed prior to my purchase indicated this was the ideal centerpiece for the room known as the 'man-cave.'"

"The _man-cave_?" Angela didn't bother to hide her disdain.

"Yes. It's a very interesting cultural phenomenon." Brennan's voice went up half an octave in excitement as she explained. "As women have increasingly forced their way into areas of the culture that were once dominated by men, there has been a shift toward creating male-only spaces in which men of our society can enjoy the more traditional aspects of masculinity without the risk of judgment from associated females. A 'man-cave' is a room in a house where a man might enjoy with his male friends such traditional pastimes as watching sports, drinking beer and, I imagine, comparing penis size."

And people thought Dr. B didn't have a sense of humor. "You were okay with Booth here having a male-only retreat?" Hodgins asked with a laugh. He elbowed the man in question.

"Like I said, man. She loves me." Booth slung a casual arm over Brennan's shoulders and pulled her toward him for a slightly longer-than-appropriate kiss.

"Okay, people. Break it up!" Angela clapped her hands. "We've got another full truck to unload! No pizza or beer until the unpacking is complete!"

The group grumbled, but made their way back upstairs to finish the unloading.

* * *

><p>"Wow! When Angela said decorate, she really meant decorate!" Booth reentered Brennan's hospital room and looked around in amazement. The place had been transformed. His wife's objects were scattered about the room, strategically placed in such a way as to not interfere with any potential medical emergency. "I'm impressed."<p>

"Yeah, Ange gave me pretty detailed instructions. Her nesting instincts are really starting to…" Hodgins cleared his throat and then tried to cover. "She just wanted to make it as welcoming a place to wake up in as possible."

"Uh huh," the larger man replied with a smirk. There was a reason Seeley Booth was one of the FBI's top agents. He didn't miss things.

Hodgins nodded in acknowledgment of his slip and jerked his head toward the door. "Well, I'd better get going. I've got to go hold my wife's hair back while she throws up."

Booth chuckled softly. "How far along is she?"

"Not so far that we're telling anybody. We haven't even decided how to tell Michael that he's going to be a big brother."

"Congratulations." Booth shook his friend's hand and then motioned to the bed. "I'll tell my wife, but I think she can keep a secret," he joked.

Hodgins grinned and grabbed the box. It was considerably lighter now as it held only two empty canvas bags and a few crumpled newspapers. "I'll see you later, man," he said as he headed for the door. "Bye, Dr. B!"

Hodgins made his way down the stairs- the elevator was still out of order- and into the parking lot. Winter had been lingering, but this morning was surprisingly mild. Jack stowed the box in the back of his little European car and slid into the right-side driver's seat. Just as he pulled out of the parking lot, the first rays of dawn pierced the morning clouds.

Jack smiled as the warmth hit his face. He and his friends would have many more days of laughter and fun. Better days than they could even now imagine. Because he believed in his heart that Dr. Brennan would wake up. And when she did, Booth, and everyone else, would be just fine.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, did you laugh? Please review and let me know...<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Special thanks to EmmyMayyy! You are totally calming a serious case of the jitters!**

**The Moments in the Memories**

**Chapter Seven**

"Greetings from the Hoover." Lance Sweets entered the room with a forced spring in his step. "All the guys send their best wishes. As usual."

The FBI was almost as eager as her friends to have Dr. Brennan regain consciousness. The percentage of unsolved murder cases had increased ten-fold since the good doctor had been shot and her crack agent husband had taken an indefinite leave of absence.

"Hey, Sweets. I thought Angela was coming this morning," Booth replied. He had woken up thirty minutes ago and was eager to get home in time to feed breakfast to his sweet baby girl.

"She asked to swap shifts. Something about a doctor's appointment?"

"Mmmm," Booth murmured his understanding.

Sweets sensed there was more to the story, but refrained from asking. He pointed to the bed. "Anything special going on, anything I need to know?" he asked.

Booth draped his jacket over his arm. "She's holding her own. Just make sure to call me if-"

" –anything happens. I know." Lance turned his back to give the couple some privacy as Booth said goodbye to his wife. His ears still managed to pick up the tender words of love and devotion that Booth recited, without fail, every time he left the room.

"So…Dr. Brennan…" Sweets always felt a little uncomfortable in the hospital. Traumatic visits to the emergency room as a boy had left him with a lingering sense of vulnerability. Not even Angela's recent spate of decorating helped the psychologist deal with the emotions evoked by the medicinal atmosphere. These feelings were usually acknowledged and set aside when, in the course of his work, he was obligated to treat a hospitalized patient. But here, when he was just visiting, there was no one to distract him and alleviate his discomfort.

But despite his particular difficulties, Lance Sweets visited Dr. Brennan as regularly as her co-workers did. That's what people who cared about other people did. Besides, it gave him a chance to explain his analyses of her and Booth's behaviors without her constantly interrupting him. Given her otherwise regrettable condition, she wasn't able to insult his profession as pseudo-science even a single time!

Sweets peeled off his jacket and settled into one of the standard blue chairs. "I know you're going to wake up, Dr. Brennan," he declared confidently.

Unsurprisingly, the comatose woman did not respond.

"How? Because I know you. I know how that brilliant mind of yours operates."

Silence.

"What's that? I can't possibly understand the brain of someone with an IQ so much higher than my own?" Lance paused to consider the challenge. "Well how do you know my IQ is lower?"

The heart monitor beeped.

"Maybe my IQ is just as high as yours. What do you think about that?"

The blood pressure cuff inflated.

"Okay. It's not as high as yours," he conceded. "But it's pretty high!" Sweets was so involved in the discussion; surely he could be forgiven for not noticing the dancing movement under her eyelids.

"High enough to know that you would never leave your family. High enough to know you would fight to the ends of the earth to keep them feeling happy and safe and loved," he argued.

Lance Sweets loved spring. It was a time when everything around him was waking up. He just loved the feeling of new beginnings. Rising from the chair, he moved to look out at the budding leaves that covered the trees outside the window. A sliver of green-blue tracked his movements, but by the time he turned around to resume his argument, it had retreated beneath its cover.

"Where was I? Oh yeah- the ends of the earth." He sniffed. "Metaphorically, I mean. I know you can't really go to the ends of the earth because the Earth is round. Well, a sphere. Okay, an oblate spheroid!"

Sweets leaned forward and peered into Brennan's unmoving face. "The point is- you would do anything for your family. _Anything_ for the people you love. I _know_ you would," he said definitively. "How do I know? Because you've done something much more significant than waking up from a little coma. Something that, for you, was much harder than all of this." He waved his arms around to indicate _this_ as the whole hospital room then pointed directly at her.

"You've sacrificed your most sacred principle for them."

He retook his seat and leaned back to present his case. "You think I don't remember?" he asked. "Well, I do. Let us think back, shall we?"

* * *

><p>"Perhaps we should get started." The FBI psychologist consulted his clock.<p>

"Not yet." Booth stubbornly kept his arms crossed over his chest.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan will get here when she gets here. In the meantime, I suggest we waste no more of our session."

"Stuff it, Sweets," he growled.

If Dr. Lance Sweets took offense every time Dr. Brennan or her partner insulted him, he'd never get anything accomplished. "Perhaps I should remind you, Agent Booth, that the FBI has mandated continued therapy as a stipulation of allowing you and Dr. Brennan to continue as professional partners while pursuing a romantic relationship."

Booth sat back against the couch grumpily, reluctantly conceding the point. He didn't, however, volunteer to start the discussion.

"Agent Booth?" Sweets prompted.

"What do you want to know, Sweets?"

"Something is obviously bothering you. Last week you and Dr. Brennan were smiling and happy. This week- you're here, she's late, and your mood has significantly altered," Sweets said calmly.

"It's not affecting my work, so I don't see why I have to talk to you about it, okay?" Booth huffed in reply. He really didn't see the point. What happened between him and Bones was private.

"I disagree. I think something has happened between you and Dr. Brennan and, if nothing else, it has severely affected your focus."

"Sweets-" Booth started in protest.

The doctor sat forward and met Booth's angry stare with a determined one of his own. "Would you prefer I suspend your partnership?"

Booth narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed with the threat. "I'd like to see you try," he muttered.

The psychologist refused to yield.

"Fine! You know what? Why shouldn't I talk to you?" Booth snapped. "It's not like she's here to protest."

"So something _has_ happened?" Sweets began to scratch on a notepad.

Booth took a deep breath and shook his head. "Not exactly…"

"Then what, exactly?"

Booth finally uncrossed his arms and shifted in his seat, signaling his surrender. "Do you know how many times Bones has told me that she doesn't want to get married?"

"Several, from the sound of it." Sweets wasn't surprised.

"At least once a day," Booth bit out. "I've told her that I know. I've reassured her that I won't push. But she keeps telling me. Every. Damn. Day."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"God, Sweets! How the hell do you think it makes me feel?" Booth brought his hands up to massage his temples. "She floats all these crap reasons-'marriage is an obsolete institution,'" he imitated in a high-pitched whine. Taking a breathe, he continued in a normal voice, "Which would be fine, except that it has nothing to do with what she actually feels."

"And what do you think she actually feels?" Sweets asked, pen flying across the paper.

"She's scared out of her mind. When we got together, I thought all this bull was behind us. I thought she finally trusted me!"

"And you think her rejection of marriage is an indication that she doesn't trust you?"

"Yes. No!" Booth paused to gather his thoughts. "No," he stated definitively. "That in and of itself is not an issue. I knew when I signed on for a relationship with Bones that we were probably never going to get married. I accepted that."

"Then what is the issue?"

"I haven't even brought up marriage. Not once," Booth said defensively. "It's that she's bringing it up preemptively. Making sure that I know she doesn't believe we're going to last. That's what gets under my skin, you know?"

"What, precisely?" Sweets was trying to keep his words to a minimum. Agent Booth was on a roll.

Booth jumped up from the couch and began to pace. "You know what Bones values more than anything? What her _defining_ characteristic is?"

Sweets had no doubt that with his excellent people-reading skills Agent Booth knew exactly what it was.

"Evidence," Booth bit out. "Collect the evidence. _Then_ make conclusions. Bones won't take a leap of faith."

"And you need her to take one?"

Booth flopped back on to the couch. "Yeah, Sweets, I do." He looked to the psychologist for support. "I can't present evidence that we're going to succeed as a couple. There is no evidence; there can't be until it actually happens!" Booth leaned forward, desperate for understanding. "I need Bones to believe in me. To believe in us. On faith."

"That's going to be extraordinarily difficult for her, Agent Booth."

"I know." Booth's shoulders slumped as the fight drained out of him. "Hey, a guy can always hope, right?" he asked pathetically.

"Yes," Sweets replied supportively. "You can always hope. But might I suggest you talk to her about it. See what she says."

Booth shook his head in defeat. "I tried. Last night…we got into a huge fight." He barked out a bittersweet laugh. "And now she won't even show up for therapy."

"Agent Booth, I'm going to counsel patience. On your part and on hers." Sweets hoped the agent was listening, as he knew this was solid advice. "In any relationship, it's _totally_ natural to face obstacles, especially when two people are as different as you and Dr. Brennan. This is just your first really big obstacle."

Booth looked at him disdainfully. "Thanks, kid. I really needed a twelve year old to tell me that."

Okay, that one needed to be addressed. He was a doctor, not a _kid_. "Special Agent Booth, I feel that when you refer to me as-"

Brennan burst into the office without knocking, interrupting whatever Sweets had been about to say. The doctor invited her to sit down, but she refused. On closer inspection, she was perspiring quite heavily and her limbs were trembling.

"Dr. Brennan, are you all right?" Sweets asked gently.

She nervously avoided Booth's gaze. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had another appointment."

Booth reached out a hand to her arm, and she gasped at his touch. "Bones, honey, are you all right? You're shaking." Any possibility of being annoyed with her tardiness was wiped out by concern.

"I'm okay," she lied, her voice as tremulous as her knees.

"Dr. Brennan, please sit down." Sweets stood up and attempted to guide her on to the couch, but she deftly avoided him. Without another word, she took a set of keys out of her purse and plunked them down on the small glass table.

"Dr. Brennan?" Sweets questioned.

"Bones, honey?"

"I bought a house," she blurted.

"Whoa!" Sweets fell back into his chair.

"A house?" Booth asked, blinking in confusion.

She finally met Booth's eyes. "Yes." Her voice still shook. "For us."

Booth's demeanor immediately softened. "For us?" he asked incredulously as Sweets faded into the background.

Brennan managed a deep breath and finally sat down. "You said that I didn't have faith in us. That I wouldn't do anything without evidence first."

"Bones- I didn't mean that you had to go buy a _house_," Booth said in a strangled voice.

"You were right," she admitted simply. "I do want evidence. Evidence first and then conclusions. That's who I am."

"But you bought us a _house_?" Booth was still struggling to wrap his mind around it.

"I want to be certain about things, Booth. I want the facts." She was clearly holding back tears, but she couldn't control the nervous bounce of her knee. "However, there is one thing that I want more."

"What's that?" he questioned softly.

"I want you."

Booth pulled her body flush against his and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He understood how very difficult it had been for her to say that. She was so courageous.

"I want you more than I want anything," she sobbed. "Even more than I want evidence."

"Dr. Brennan, this constitutes a significant break-through for you! I think we should talk about-"

"Get out, Sweets," Booth ordered.

"Agent Booth-"

"Out!"

Sweets grumbled to himself all the way to the door where he stopped and took one last look behind him. They were still cinched together in an embrace, Booth's head buried in her hair. Sweets nodded with a satisfied smile. They were going to be just fine.

* * *

><p>"Hey, I'm back." Booth walked through the door and promptly crossed to his wife. He greeted her with a tender kiss to her forehead before turning back to the young psychologist. "Thanks for the break."<p>

"Yeah; no problem. Happy to help, like always." Sweets poked his arms into his lime-green jacket and headed for the door. Just as he crossed the threshold, he turned on his heel and reentered the room.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, digging into his pants pocket. "Daisy wanted you to have this." He held out a dark blue jeweler's box. "She bought it one summer on an anthropological trip to Rome. She doesn't use it of course, but she thought it was pretty."

Booth looked at Sweets quizzically as he tried to anticipate what kind of jewelry the eccentric Ms. Wick had decided to gift him. He took the box and slowly opened the lid. A rosary was nestled in the velvet interior, its elaborate crucifix shot through with gold. He lifted the prayer beads from the box with gentle reverence and looked at Sweets, genuinely touched.

"According to the placard, it was blessed with holy water by Cardinal Aloysius Donahue on Easter Sunday, in the year 1999." Sweets moved next to Booth and directed his attention to the interior of the lid. It held a small card detailing the rosary's history.

Booth kept the rosary in hand, but shifted to place the box on the window's ledge. The bright sunlight glinted off a delicate chain that held what looked to be authentic pearl beads. He returned to Sweet's side and softly clasped his shoulder with an open palm. "It's beautiful. I really don't know what else to say." He removed his hand from the younger man's slight frame and held it out. "Please thank Daisy for me. This means… a lot," he said warmly.

Sweets smiled at the man who was his role model and shook the proffered hand. "I'll tell Daisy you liked it." He hooked a thumb in the direction of the door. "I'm supposed to meet her for lunch, so I'd better..."

"Go. Go-" Booth propelled the young man toward the door. "Don't be late."

Sweets stumbled under the bigger man's push and let out a self-deprecating laugh. He stopped briefly. "Agent Booth?"

"Yeah, Sweets?"

"Don't give up on her, okay?" He gestured to the small form in the bed. "She'll come through. Just keep the faith."

Booth blinked hard and nodded. "Yeah. I will." He pointed to the door. "Now get out of here," he ordered with a smile.

Booth softly closed the door before returning to his wife's bedside. Lowering himself into the chair, he settled one of her hands in his left. He clasped the rosary in his right hand and raised the crucifix to his forehead, his chest, his left shoulder and then his right. He proceeded to recite the prayers that had been drummed into him from the earliest days of his childhood. _I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth… _

* * *

><p>Booth spotted it out of the corner of his eye during one of the final prayers. A tiny flicker.<p>

He held his breath. Another flicker, stronger than the first.

His heart stopped. Then began to race at superhuman speed.

There it was again! Just the slightest movement of her eyelid. Booth jumped to his feet, sending his chair clattering back across the floor. Without taking his eyes off his wife, he managed to gently set the rosary down on the side table. He tightened his grip on her fragile hand and leaned forward to caress her face.

"Bones…Honey, can you hear me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her lashes fluttered in response.

"Hey! Hey, somebody get in here!" he shouted as he reached for the call button. "I need somebody in here!"

The nurse on duty burst through the door. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Booth gestured wildly at the bed. "She's waking up! I swear her eyes are opening!"

The nurse hustled to the patient to confirm it with her own eyes.

"There it is! Did you see it?" he demanded.

"Mr. Booth! Please! You need to keep your voice down!" The nurse pulled out her hospital-sanctioned mobile device and used it to page the doctor.

Booth clamped his mouth shut and returned his attention to Brennan's eyes. With excruciating slowness, first one lid then the other cracked open. Other than his children, those two pools of green-blue were the most beautiful thing he had seen in his entire life.

"Bones? Honey, I'm here. I'm right here!" he reassured her frantically as tears streamed down his cheeks. "I love you! I'm right here with you!"

Within minutes, the room was filled to capacity by nurses and doctors of all disciplines. Booth was forced against a wall, wrestled away from the bed by a nurse of impressive size. "We need you to stay out of our way," he intoned in a deep voice. "The best thing you can do for your wife right now is to let us do our jobs."

The patient's husband nodded at the hulking young man and leaned back in uncharacteristic submission. Booth would chain himself to the damn wall if that's what was best. He would do whatever was necessary to help his partner, his lover, his _wife_… Of course, there was little he could do to calm the jump and twitch of his muscles; the adrenaline was pumping through his veins faster than a Zdeno Chára slap shot hurtled toward the net.

Booth quietly watched the doctors perform a variety of tests he knew were designed to evaluate the patient's response to stimuli. Brennan's heart rate increased markedly when a doctor jabbed a sharp instrument against her big toe. The doctor repeated the test, and her heart rate jumped again. Booth winced in sympathy, but internally rejoiced. He hadn't imagined it. If she was registering and responding to pain, then she really was awake!

Booth clasped his folded hands in front of his mouth. Taking huge gulping gasps of air, he rocked himself to and fro, the wall a steady support at his back. He clenched his eyes shut and once again began to pray, his heart overflowing with joyful thanks.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading! Please review! Just one more chapter and an epilogue to go…<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Contains references to ****_The Blackout in the Blizzard._**

**The Moments in the Memories**

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

><p>At first, Brennan could only stay awake for a few minutes at a time. She heard snatches of conversation, words like 'minimally conscious' and 'significant progress' alternating with encouragement and support from family and friends.<p>

She had a Neurologist. She had a Speech Therapist and an Occupational Therapist. She suffered her own version of hell with the Physical Therapist who pushed and pulled at her night and day.

Through it all, there was Booth. He held her hand and mopped her brow. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, despite the fact that she was unable to answer in any kind of effective way for months. Too weak to hold her baby, Brennan's favorite times were the moments when Booth would adjust the bed in order to snuggle Ali against her mother's side.

A miracle had occurred. Despite having been shot, having suffered through a coma, and having to struggle mightily with her recovery, Temperance Brennan felt, for the first time in her life, completely and truly safe. She was loved, and she reveled in that knowledge.

She often thought back to the night when it had all started; the night she and Booth had first come together. The night they had both laid their hearts on the line and somehow found the courage to love openly. When they had taken a seat on those marble steps nearly three years ago, they could never have imagined what the future held…

* * *

><p>"What a night, huh?" Booth exclaimed quietly. He stood beside his partner just outside the doors of Founding Fathers. Another case solved, another bad guy locked in jail, and best of all, another beautiful baby born into this world.<p>

"Yes, I am quite tired, though I believe Angela's exhaustion far exceeds my own," Brennan replied softly. Michael Joseph Hodgins had been born just two hours earlier. Not that being in hard labor had stopped Angela from delivering a crucial piece of evidence. She had called Booth from the delivery room, having used her artist's insight to deduce the final piece of information necessary for an arrest.

"Uh, Bones?" he stammered.

Brennan turned toward him, curiosity peaked.

"Why don't we skip the cab?" His voice held a soft invitation.

Which she completely missed. "In favor of what? We've had too much to drink, Booth. It's quite late. It would not be appropriate for either of us to drive home."

"No, that's not what I meant," he said with a small shake of his head. Booth gently took her arm. "Why don't we take a walk? I know how you like the monuments all lit up at night." He flashed a charming grin and pulled her in the direction of the National Mall.

Brennan willingly accompanied him, quietly basking in his company and the touch of his fingers on the sensitive skin inside her elbow. The balmy May night wrapped them in its warmth. They dodged a few late-night tourists as they passed the Washington Monument, the magnificent obelisk brilliantly reflecting its spotlights. Booth released her elbow in favor of taking her hand as they crossed the street and headed for the Lincoln Memorial.

"Booth?" she whispered in confusion. Brennan softly tugged on her hand, but he refused to relinquish it. They stopped walking.

"It's May 30th, Bones."

"Yes," Brennan acknowledged, clearly oblivious to the date's significance.

"May 30th," Booth repeated. "Isn't that the date you wrote down and burned?"

Her breath caught as she easily recalled the night to which he referred, when they had shared a friendly beer after spending the day trapped in his building's powerless elevator. "I told you not to look!"

"I did," he admitted. "Sorry."

Brennan understood that he was not. She began walking again, but no longer attempted to pull her hand away. His callused fingers weaved their way between hers.

"So…" Booth avoided looking at her face and trained his eyes on the reflecting pool. "Feeling strong?" He held his breath as he waited for her answer.

Brennan took a few moments to formulate a response. "Stronger than I was, yes." She glanced over, enjoying the play of the reflected light shimmering over his strong features. "Are you still angry?" she asked shyly.

Booth shrugged and the motion pulled at their joined hands. "Somewhere between Hannah refusing my proposal and wrapping up this case, I guess I realized it takes two to tango, you know?"

Brennan furrowed her lovely brow in puzzlement. Booth caught the adorable look from the corner of his eye. "Not literally tango…I mean, it takes two people to have a successful relationship," he explained. "It's possible I wasn't the perfect romantic partner."

Brennan met his eyes and chuckled.

Booth smiled back at her before taking a deep breath and plunging in. "With Rebecca, you know, I think I ignored her. I was so focused on what I wanted, what I thought was the right thing to do. And there she was. Pregnant. Completely unplanned and unprepared."

He thought quietly for a few steps before continuing. "She was re-evaluating the direction of her life, and with good reason. But I ignored her feelings and tried to push her into doing what I wanted. It's no wonder she kicked my ass to the curb."

Brennan laughed softly at his colorful language before looking into the distance. "And me?" she asked nervously, her voice low but steady.

Booth let out a single staccato laugh and squeezed her hand. "You? You, my dear Bones, were a case of pushing too hard too fast." He waved his free arm out in front of them. "I was head-over-heels. Had been for years. And I let Sweets convince me to…" Booth trailed off and shook his head. "I was dumb. I knew that you needed patience. I knew that it would take time- a lot of time- for you to feel safe enough to even consider risking your heart in a relationship. But I wanted you so much…" He couldn't keep the longing from his voice.

Booth pulled them to a halt and turned to face her. When she refused to meet his eyes, he used a gentle hand to lift her chin. "I'm sorry, Bones. For pushing too hard." He silently held her gaze and saw the forgiveness that bloomed in the green-blue depths. He smiled, beyond grateful for her generosity.

"I just didn't realize you would freak out as badly as you did." Booth knew he was just trying to provoke a reaction, but he needed a breather from the intensity of his emotions.

"I did not freak out!" she protested indignantly, just as he had predicted.

"Oh, you definitely freaked," he bantered back. Booth winked, channeling his inner Angela.

They shared an affectionate laugh and Brennan tugged on his hand, urging him to resume their walk. She took a shaky breath. "And Hannah?" she asked, not sure she wanted to hear his answer.

"Ah, yes. Hannah." Booth nodded. "Well, you had your way of freaking out. I suppose Hannah was mine," he mused.

"I don't-" Brennan started.

"-know what that means," they finished together. Booth shook his head with a chuckle before he proceeded to explain.

"It means that I was feeling beat-up and bruised. My heart was broken and I honestly thought I had ruined any chance I ever had with you. I was so determined to move on; I was trying to force myself to get over the pain of losing you. Of never really having you."

Brennan moved closer and used her free hand to gently chafe his arm. He sighed, soaking up the comfort she offered. "Hannah was classic rebound, you know? Similar enough to the person I really wanted to be attracted, but different enough that I wasn't constantly reminded of what I couldn't have."

"You thought Hannah and I were similar?" she asked doubtfully.

"Well, yeah," he replied. "That's probably why you got along so well. You're both beautiful." He nudged her with his elbow. "You're both loyal. And in your own ways you were both passionate in the pursuit of truth and justice."

"Something we have in common with you." Brennan nudged him back. "And we were different?"

"Very different, in fundamentals." Booth curved his face toward hers.

"Hannah didn't need me to love her. She had no empty spaces inside." He squeezed Brennan's hand. "Your parents abandoned you. You were forced from foster home to foster home, desperately hoping the next place would be kinder than the last."

Brennan didn't say anything, tacitly accepting the truth of his statements and all that they implied.

"Eventually you grew up and carved out a permanent place for yourself," he continued. "You made a family out of me and the team at the Jeffersonian." Booth took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "But Hannah, she had a totally different background. She came from a stable, loving family, which is probably why she felt safe enough to charge into war zones. She _chose_ to become a nomad. She didn't want to settle down and she told me that plenty of times." He sighed again.

"But I didn't hear her," he admitted. "I proposed. She said no." He shrugged. "Can't say that I blame her. I thought I loved her, but I couldn't even be bothered to listen to her."

Brennan listened carefully to his words and heard the regret in them. "So you're truly not angry anymore." It wasn't a question.

They reached the base of the Lincoln Memorial and climbed the stately marble steps in tandem. Booth led the way, still cradling her hand in his.

"Only at myself. For not sticking to my guns. For bailing at the first sign of trouble." He struggled to find the right words, knowing that the deeper meaning of metaphors often escaped her. "I should never have accepted the commission. I should have stayed in D.C. Should have found a way to make you stay too."

Brennan shook her head ruefully, knowing how impossible that would have been. She had been too determined to flee.

"Okay, so I wouldn't have succeeded," he acknowledged. "But I should have tried. I loved you. I should never have left you."

Brennan's lungs caught. "Loved? Past tense?" she inquired raggedly. She desperately tried to mask the vulnerability that was swamping her from every direction.

Booth ignored the question and pulled her down to sit on the solid stone. "You never really answered my question. How strong are you?"

"I don't know." She shrugged plaintively. "I know that I'm not impervious anymore. I know that hearing you talk about Hannah hurts. I know that when I think about that night outside of Sweet's office, I regret my actions."

Tears pooled in Brennan's eyes as she fiddled with the pendant of her necklace. "I know that wishing is an exercise in pointlessness, but that hasn't stopped me from doing it anyway."

"Tell me, Bones," Booth implored. "Tell me what you wish for."

Brennan inhaled deeply, her gaze turned toward the majestic tableau in front of them. The Capitol glowed in the distance, but she didn't see it. Her mind was riveted in the past.

"I wish my parents had never left. I wish my foster parents had kept their fists to themselves. I wish I hadn't learned how much love hurt or how scary it is." Her voice broke and tears began to pour down her cheeks. "I wish I could go back to that night. I wish you still loved me." She finished with a sob and buried her face in her hands.

Booth's heart leapt as he moved to kneel in front of her, gently prying her hands away. "Go back to that night, Bones," he entreated. "Let's go back to that night. I say _I knew_. From the very beginning. I say that I want thirty, or forty, or fifty years." Booth held her head in his hands, forcing her gaze to his. "What do you say?"

Her lips trembled. "I say…I know it is impossible…"

He clenched his eyes shut against the sudden flood of agony.

"…but I want forever," she finished hoarsely.

Booth's eyes popped open. He gasped for breath as her words washed over him. He couldn't believe a person had ever felt so much relief as he felt now. She was saying yes. A year and a half after physically pushing him away, she was _finally_ saying yes. He could barely hear his own voice over the pounding of his heart.

"I don't think we'll live forever, Bones." Booth peered hopefully into her eyes as his own reflected her tears. "But I'm sure as hell going to try," he declared. He stretched toward his partner, using his hands to gently guide her head down. He touched his lips to hers.

There on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, on a warm but otherwise unremarkable night, a woman and a man came together. The world didn't alter course; it didn't shift on its axis. But for the man and woman involved, their lives shifted immeasurably. From two separate lives lived apart to a shared life lived together.

After a few minutes in each other's arms, the woman released the man and pulled him to his feet. "Let's go find that cab," Brennan whispered.

"Are you sure?" Booth asked softly, testing her resolve. "You and me, we aren't going to change overnight; if we do this, there are going to be bumps in the road."

Brennan smiled in understanding. "Then we'll get over them together." She lifted his hand to her lips before tugging him down the steps and into the night.

Hours later, the thoroughly satisfied couple slept deeply. Their passions spent, they lay wrapped around each other, oblivious to the world outside. Just beyond the bedroom window a bird began to sing, signaling the dawn of a brand new day.

* * *

><p>Brennan smiled at her sleeping husband and gently laid a hand on his mussed hair. He shifted his head from where it lay against her hip, burrowing further into her slim body. His arm was flung out over his head, curved protectively around her waist. He involuntarily tightened it as he slid back into consciousness. Blinking slowly, he sat up in the chair at his wife's bedside.<p>

"Hey, Bones," he whispered softly into the morning air.

"Good morning," she rasped back.

Booth leaned in to kiss her and she ran her fingers across his stubble-covered chin. He pulled back and smiled at the glint in her eyes. "What're you thinking about?"

"The night we first made love. Do you remember?" she asked.

He chuckled softly and smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Do I remember? Of course I do, sweetheart." Unable to resist the twinkle in her eye, he stole another kiss. "Just wait until I get you home from this place. We'll make that night look like it was nothin'." He grinned lasciviously.

She grinned back and rested her head against the downy pillow. "I can't wait."

She closed her eyes and let thoughts of the future take her away. Years of hard work and recovery were ahead, she knew that. But she also knew in her mind- and heart- that their future was going to be wonderful. Because no matter what obstacles life threw at them, they would face them together.

Always together.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Don't forget to review! Epilogue coming soon…<strong>


	9. Epilogue

**AN: Writing my first Bones fanfic has been such a positive experience. Thanks to all my readers and my very loyal reviewers! One more special shout-out to EmmyMayyy for her encouragement and support!**

**The Moments in the Memories**

**Epilogue**

Ali anxiously fussed with the billowing folds of her gown. "Mom, can you help me with this?"

"Of course, Ali." Temperance Brennan put down the mascara she had just finished applying and moved to stand behind her daughter. "What would you like me to do?"

"Just hold this-" Ali shoved a handful of satin into her mother's hands. "-and then I can twist this-" She adjusted some material, "-and then-" She pulled the tail of her dress back from her mother and let it cascade down over her long legs. "Perfect," she declared.

"I really don't know why you insisted on such an impractical dress. When your father and I got married I wore-"

"I know, Mom. You've told me the story a million times," Ali interrupted, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

"One million is not an accurate number," Brennan replied swiftly.

Ali raised her eyebrow in a pointed expression. In the 26 years since her birth, her mother had made leaps and bounds in her interpersonal communication skills, but the excitement and stress of the day had her lapsing into old habits.

Brennan blinked and nodded her head in understanding. "I comprehend the meaning of your hyperbole. It is true that I have told you about my own wedding several times, and I acknowledge that you do not need to hear a description of my dress again in order to recall it."

Ali smiled and let out a tiny laugh. "Thanks, Mom." She turned to face the mirror. "So, what do you think?"

"Well, despite your very traditional attire…"

"_Mom_." Ali drew the single syllable out in warning.

"…I think you look exquisitely beautiful," Brennan finished with pride.

Ali's eyes welled up. Despite her mom's perpetual awkwardness, she always managed to say just the right thing. Ali turned around and pulled her into a hug. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too," her mother whispered softly. Brennan squeezed her daughter gently. "I am so very happy that I am able to be here with you." She pulled back and took her girl's face in her hands. "There were times I thought I'd never live to see a day like today."

It certainly hadn't been a sure thing. For years of Ali's childhood, her mother had battled an enfeebled body and a damaged brain. After a long stint in a rehabilitation facility, Brennan had finally come home to live with her family, but had been unable to resume her career at the Jeffersonian until Ali was in middle school. Years of physical therapy had helped to rebuild her musculature, but a weakened immune system had resulted in numerous visits to the emergency room. It hadn't been unusual to find a young Ali skipping down a hospital corridor on the way to visit her mom.

In spite of, or perhaps because of their shared ordeal, the Booth/Brennan clan had become the type of family that other families envied. The bonds of love had woven an impenetrable shield around them, and few outsiders were ever admitted into their circle. It had come as a real surprise the night Ali had announced her engagement to a fellow doctoral candidate from Georgetown.

A knock sounded on the heavy wooden door.

"Hey, Squirt. You ready yet?" Parker Booth poked his head into the room. "Dad's practically having a panic attack out here."

Ali beamed at her beloved big brother. "All ready," she replied.

Parker held out an arm to his step-mother and escorted her past her nervous husband and into the small church.

"Dad?" Ali called.

"Yeah, baby. I'm right here." A tuxedo-clad Booth stepped into the room. He could only stare as his beautiful little girl floated toward him and took his arm. Wasn't it just last month that he was changing diapers and rocking her to sleep? How could she already be getting married?

"You know, honey, you don't have to go through with this. We can walk straight out those doors to the car if you want to," he offered, completely serious.

Ali shook her head and laughed. She stood on tip toe to plant a soft kiss on her father's cheek. An organ began to play a wedding march. "Time to go, Dad."

As Ali walked up the aisle with her father, she soaked in every detail she could absorb. The flowers spilling over their vases. The feel of her gown as it swished over her toes. The look on her groom's face as she approached him at the altar. She was going to remember this day for the rest of her life.

Because these were the moments memories were made of.


End file.
